Petrified Hermione
by Rinaku
Summary: The 2nd Harry Potter Book told by Hermione lying petrified in the hospital wing: a bit more stress on library work and of course Madam Pomfrey's profession as a boarding school nurse. Hope you enjoy it. - Not my first fic.


# Petrified Herminoe

The 2nd Harry Potter Book told by Hermione lying petrified in the hospital wing: a bit more stress on library work and of course Madam Pomfrey's profession as a boarding school nurse. Hope you enjoy it. - _Not_ my first fic. 

  1. [Where to Start...][1]
  2. [Library Research][2]
  3. [Moste Potente Potions and Protectives][3]
  4. [The Duelling Revelation and Consequences][4]
  5. [The Potion's Fruits][5]
  6. [A Peaceful Time][6]
  7. [The last Piece of the Jigsaw][7]

### 1 Where to Start...

Here I am again. Lying exactly in the position I fell down, unable to move, unable to communicate, but my mind is so sharp, so sharp... 

It was the librarian Madam Pince who found us. She called Professor Flitwick, who, without using his wand, said the _mobilicorpus_ charm and up we were, floating in mid air. I have to find out, how he was doing this, I thought for a second. The two of them pushed us along the corridor up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, recieving us with a deep, worried sigh, pushed our floating bodies to the washing room and rinsed them under the shower, constantly muttering with herself about this difficult time, that it made no sense talking to us, but the strong sweat of fear we were radiating would drive her crazy if she didn't wash it away very soon. - _"Don't touch the piece of paper I'm holding. Pleeease don't touch it!!!"_ I was thinking with all my might. And it worked. She ignored the hands. Obviously, she thought, there was no sweat in my petrified hands. Or she knew she would be unable to open them. Then, she lay us down into hospital wing beds and gave instructions: "No meals, no reading, no visitors... It will be a long and boring time for you... _If_ there is something like time for you. _If_ you feel or think anything inside your petrified bodies... don't know if they are dead... this drives me crazy, the hospital wing is full of these people. Not even breathing. Too quiet here, if you ask me. Too _ghostly _." 

What can I add. If it's too quiet for her, what is it for me, locked up in the thick walls of my motionless body, unable to move, unable even to blink, but my mind is so sharp, so sharp... my ears are sharper than ever, and my eyes ... I know every single crack in the wall opposite my bed by heart, followed them in my first hours, drawing imaginary beasts and landscapes and faces with them, but after a while, I was bored doing so. It didn't make me less hungry to think, that is, to move the only part of myself I am able to: the brain. I _must_ do it, I _am to_ think a clear line of thoughts not to go mad... a clear line... but which one? ...perhaps, I am reassuming what happened in the last months in Hogwarts? Yes, that's an idea. It will take a while, and that's good. If I only knew where to start... 

The voice, that's it, the voice. This strange voice Harry kept on hearing all around the castle. Mostly in corridors - no, the first time he heard it, it was in Professor Lockharts room. A kind of beast, expressing its wish to kill people, as he told us. Nobody except him could hear it. Was it in his head? In his mind? In the air around him? It's sometimes so difficult with Harry. To know what exactly is going on. But he looked quite vivid. Not like being close to drifting away. Nothing with his all too famous and hurting scar. Just - there was a voice, but only for him. As he told us about it the first time, I thought, Professor Lockhart had didn't hear it, but then ... on Halloween evening, right after Nearly Headless Nick's 400th Deathday Party, he heard it again and we were there, at his side. Didn't understand, why we, Ron and me, couldn't hear it as well, but there was really nothing, except perhaps the usual hissing sounds of the dozing castle. Whatever, we followed the voice up the marble staircase and through the corridors. Harry seemed to know exactly where it was. As if it moved inside the walls. - A voice moving inside the walls of Old Hogwarts? Could it be possible? - So many strange things are possible in this castle... 

We followed Harry along the 1st floor corridors and suddenly, right before Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, water all over the place, she seemed to have tried to drown herself another time, not realizing she was already dead. Yes, Peeves had treated her badly at the party, calling her pimply, which is true, as she died in our age, but he needn't tell her. It's not polite... Just before her bathroom, there was something. "Look!" I heard my voice echoing loudly through the corridor. At the wall, in letters at least two feet high, in the awkward handwriting of a young student, the ink still gleaming, there was written: "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware", and Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from one of the torch brackets, dead like and with an expression of upmost fear in her face. Creepy. We weren't able to move. After a while, Ron suggested the only and right thing: to run away. There was nothing we could do, was there? If Filch would pass by? If the other students... 

I was thinking too fast of them. From both ends of the corridor, they came chatting and joking from the feast and stopped aghast. Malfoy of course was not far, and as soon as he reached us, he read: " _Enemies of the heir beware_." and added: " _You'll be next, moodbloods! _" I know, he hates me. He can't stand me being better than him in classes. He can't stand Harry having chosen us, Ron and me, as his friends, and not him, the pure blood, the real and proud wizard, decendant of an ancient wizarding family. He gave me an ugly grin as if he was up to blow me away. "Rubbish," I pulled myself together as I shuddered, "he's just jealous." 

Argus Filch worked himself through the crowd of students, glanced at his cat, realized it was her and didn't wait _a second_ to accuse Harry of having murdered her. He's so unfair, we didn't even bother the cat. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore came along with Professor McGonagall, he picked the cat from the torch and advised us to follow him into Professor Lockharts room nearby. Professor Lockhart was verbosely trying to find parallels in his own adventurous past, which all of us know well from his books, in order to find a solution for what had happened. Dumbledore examined the cat and finally stated she was not dead but petrified and could be cured as soon as Professor Sprout's mandrakes were mature and a _Mandrake Restorative Draught could_ be made. To his opinion, not Harry was to accuse, as Filch constantly and furiously stated (a couple of days before Harry had accidentally revealed he was a squib). A second year - Dumbledore said - would never be able to perform such a spell, petrifying was an act of a fully mature powerful wizard or creature. We were dismissed. 

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### 2 Library Research

The Chamber of Secrets, the Chamber of Secrets ... some bell rang in my head, something about a secret room in Hogwarts, but I had no chance to remember in which book I had read about it. Must have been a historical one. Must have been at home. The next days, I spent every spare minute in the library. Hogwarts' library is huge and has plenty of interesting books, some of them quite old and unique. I admit - I really like that place. Even in my second year at the famous _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ I don't know _a thing_ about the wizarding world, not like Ron or Malfoy, or the girls in my dormitory who grew up with all this. The whole wizarding world is so strange to me, so _different_, and every word I say, I immediately think it could be completely wrong, because I didn't understand _a thing_ yet. How could I, without a serious basis. But the library helps me a lot. Books explain without laughing about silly questions. Books answer questions you don't even know they exist. If I only didn't forget as much as I used to do ... 

None of the History of Hogwarts books were on the shelf the day after, so I consulted all sorts of historical books and spent a long time at the wooden index cupboard looking up whatever I found. Secret. Chamber. Petrifying Spell. Petrifying Potion. Alas - the longer I was searching and reading, the less I found. Yes, the more I found of course, but the more confused I got. There are lots of potions to make people deadly sleep or look dead like, but no one petrifies permanently and need counterpotions. The same with spells. There are different curses or spells to make people lose a certain amount of their powers or time, all of them dreadfully difficult like _stupor_ or _brake_, but always after a while they lose their effect. Too late I realized: there was definitely no way around _Hogwarts - a History_. But by the time, every available copy of the book was lent and there was already a two weeks waiting list. 

Why didn't I think about the ghosts? Go straight away to Myrtle to ask if she knew what happend that night just in front of her door and if such a thing happend before. Ghosts sometimes do know a lot about former times. But on the other hand - she was all the time in a bad mood and caring only about her own miserable life and death. What could she know? 

And why then didn't I owl to my parents if they could send the book I left at home because of the lacking space in my trunk? - Yes, why. Perhaps, I didn't want to bother them. They both are hard working and they don't have that much spare time. And Hogwarts isn't a cheap school for muggle borns. If they are working hard, it's also for me and my education. They are unsure about the wizarding world, even more than I, although they are really proud that the Magic Quill had chosen me. - No, I couldn't ask them. So I put my name onto the waiting list and kept on searching in every remaining book I found. 

Professor Binns wasn't happy at all, as I asked him during the next History of Magic class to give us a brief summary of what he called the Legend of the Chamber of Secrets. I had to argue with the grain of truth hidden in every legend. At last, he told us what he knew. About Hogwarts' four founders and their debate, which students should be selected - only the pure bloods as Salazar Slytherin stated (why did I miss looking up "Slytherin" and "inheritage of wizarding abilities" in the library?) or every child with wizarding abilities in Britain. About Salazar who finally left Hogwarts enraged. Happy am I, moodblood as Malfoy now never ceased to remind me, that the remaining three founders voted for muggle born students as well. About the Chamber of Secrets, Professor Binns, boldly underlining this to be a legend, bare of facts, only made up to frighten people, told us that Salazar Slytherin is said to have built a sort of sealed chamber inside the castle, which only an heir of Slytherin will be able to open and unleash the horrifying monster within, which is said to purge the school of all people unworthy to study magic. Fullstop. Professor Binns stopped, concerning him, this was a _sensational, ludicrous_ tale, and no evidance for the chamber, nor for the monster, has ever been found inside Hogwarts. 

No evidence. Never. Immediately after Professor Binns' lesson, the three of us rushed down to the corridor to have a poke around the place of the attack. It was dull as on Halloween eve. At the window on top of the wall above the writing, there was a strange thing to remark. Spiders. About two dozen spiders anxiously crowding, fighting to get their way out through a small crack beneath the window, as if panicly fleeing the castle. Strange. Spiders normally are individualists. What about their sudden common attempt? Do they fear anything, do they have an enemy which leaves them no other way than to flee? (Spiders, I thought, social habits and natural enemies of spiders.) I remembered the water. Ron was absolutely sure it came directly from Myrtle's bathroom, so we entered and asked her if she happened to see or hear anything strange on Halloween evening. Of course she didn't, unhappy she felt about Peeve's jokes. Another suicide attempt. When will she finally learn that it's pointless to suicide a death person? 

People started to whisper about Harry being Slytherin's Heir. To be precise, the first Hufflepuffs started to do so right after Mrs Norris' revelation. Just because it was us to find the petrified cat? Because of Harry being a special person? Because of him surviving Voldemort's attack as a Baby and nobody knowing exactly why? The Hufflepuffs, of all the students started to whisper ... the Hufflepuffs, who are chosen to their house because of their loyalty, _fair play_ and _forgivingness_... 

In the evening, I continued my reading of library books. Slytherin. Monster (in the library, there is a whole section about monsters. No way to get through). Heir. Pure Blood, Mudblood. Magical Inheritage. At this point, I found quite an interesting booklet in the _Prague Wizarding University Annual Report_, written by Aïna Nantosvelta, called _Approach on Transmission of Magical Abilities_. A study on 180 wizarding families over the time of 90 years, 110 of them with more than 4 children each generation. It showed that certain magical abilities seem to be inheritable heterogenically, that is by nearly 100% of the children, such as riding a broomstick, performing spells of the difficulty degree of 1 to 3 (Miranda Goshawk's grade I-V) or making easy potions like cooking. Other magical abilities, like performing difficult or inventing new spells and potions, apparating or influencing other wizard's will, needs not only inheritage, but also a long and serious training to focus and regulate on the wizard's innate talent. Only a few magical abilities (called "special qualities"), like speaking animal languages, flying without a broomstick, turning invisible without the help of magical utilities, or animagism, are very rare and must be inherited homogeneously, that means from both parental sides.  
One chapter of the booklet was treating the question of pure muggle born wizards, i.e. children with wizarding abilities, whose both parental sides were muggles. What kind of magical abilities could they have? The answer: only abilities which have to be homogenically inherited to emerge. Or, of course, the child had gone through gene mutation, but this is highly infrequent. Otherwise, one of the parents must have had the talents as well, and with that had not been a muggle.  
At the end of the booklet, there was an index with magical abilities, followed by proportional distribution among the selected families. To my big luck, I found out, that conjuring up contranatural effects, such as waterproof fires or heat resistent snow, was signed as "special talent" (quite rare and one grade before "special qualities", which can't be learned without a specific innate ability). As I found out last year how easy I learned the bluebell flame spell, I looked up the portable and waterproof fire spell and started to train in bathrooms. Just to prove myself: undoubtedly, I am a mudblood, but at least one with special wizarding talents... 

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### 3 Moste Potente Potions and Protectives

Ron reckoned in our Gryffindor common room discussions again and again, Draco Malfoy must be involved in the attempt to purge Hogwarts of squibs and muggle born students. It was his broad principle. His whole family had been in Slytherin, Ron continued. They could easily been Slytherin's heirs. O.k., I thought, it's a guess and it sounds logical. But did we know? No. Could we prove it? Nnnn-yes... Hadn't Professor Snape recently talked about a potion, by help of which one can change one's apperance into someone other's? Where in my school notes was it again? Ah, there. The _Polyjuice Potion_. Let's try to find it out, I thought and I proposed to make the potion, to transform into three of the Slytherins, to sneak into their common room and to ask Malfoy straight on. If he really was involved, he wouldn't hesitate a moment boasting to Slytherin mates about his clever attempt to purify the school and by the way proving that he was a real Slytherin although - if one could believe Lavender Brown's evening dormitory chat with Parvati Patil - his mother had to leave Hogwarts in her sixth year, being pregnant. 

The boys weren't exactly enthusiastic about the plan, nor were they definitely against. Next step: if we wanted to make the potion, we had to organize _Moste Potente Potions_ - the prescription book - which was standing in the restricted section of the library, and for that reason needed a signed permission from a teacher. We could argue with background reading, couldn't we? But whom should we ask for a signature? Now, this was Ron's subject. As he doesn't estimate Professor Lockhart's achievements for the eredication of the dark forces and never stops calling him a brainless braggart, he suggested to ask him. And I had no reason against, and so we did. 

Next monday afternoon after the Defence against the Dark Arts lesson I asked Professor Lockhart for a signature. "Just for background reading ... would help me understand what you say in _Gadding with Ghouls_..." And he gave me the signature without even glancing at the title. (Ron was _shocked_!!!) We ran to the library and got the book - which was by the way by the famous unicornist Balorus Belenus who wrote at the beginning of the 19th century the gigantic volume _Use and Misuse of Magical Creature's Ingredients in Transfiguration Potions_. The Belenus books are famous for being beautifully illustrated collector's editions on parchment bound in leather with embossed, gold leaf titles. If it was standing in the restricted section, this was not because of its content alone, but also because of its collector's value. That's why I felt a bit guilty that we brought it to the only secure place in Hogwarts we could imagine: to Myrtle's bathroom. 

I found the page with the potion and read the prescription. My head was turning. It was the most complicated potion I ever saw. A bundle of fluxweed, two standard bags of lacewings - what the heck were standard bags? - 10-12 leeches, a bunch of knotgrass... but also some really rare ingredients, such as a teaspoon of powdered horn of a Bicorn and half an inch shredded skin of a Boomslang for each person to be changed. Where to organize them if not stealing from Professor Snape's office? How to arrange a harmless situation for the actual steeling? I read it over again, glanced at my lunar wrist watch and a happy shriek dropped my lips. Can you imagine how contented I was to discover, that one of the fresh ingredients, fluxweed, had to be picked at full moon, which was only a week ahead? We could pick it next monday afternoon between Herbology and Transfiguration and lose only a week! - But still there was a long way to this complicated potion, and it would take about a month to brew it, as after the fluxweed action at full moon, the next time consuming point were the lacewings, which had got to be stewed for twenty-one days. "Whew", I summarized relieved, "it can be done in about a month." 

Next question: Where was the safest place to create the Potion? Outdoors? No - fthe fire could be seen at nights. In the dungeons? "If Snape found out?", Ron snorted. In the chamber beside the owlery? Nope again - for the arriving owls could extinguish the fire with their wings and the potion could be smelt by owlery visitors. We needed a place where, during month, we had to be guaranteed that nobody noticed the cauldron and our activity... "Can do it here, if you want - I will watch it", Myrtle suggested to my utter astonishment, "I am used to haunting the place." 

It was a long week, waiting for November 29th, when the moon was finally full. Ron asked the twins what standard bags were. "Up to a shady action, aren't we? Need some potion ingredients?" George ribbed, and Fred said in a patronizing voice: "Don't crash another car, Roniboy." They provided him with the exact information we needed although they couldn't get a word out of him of what he was up to. I don't know if I ever understand how the relationship between Ron and the twins works. Somehow, it does. - Harry had a hard Quidditch training week and I, I stuck in the library again. Subject of my days was spiders. The potions part was the biggest, as spiders are used in nearly 25% of the potions. On living objects, there was far less hints in the index. I went directly to the shelfs. At the end of the spider part in the non magical animal section, there was half a shelf on Spider Behaviourism. I pulled out one book after the other. Unfortunately, in every second introduction, there was the short story about Pallas Athene and the boasting lady. What did this help to understand the animals? Why did all the authors mention this ancient legend? Just to fill space? To catch the reader's attention? One book, _Spiders of the Wizarding World_, a heavy volume of encyclopedic extent, was beautifully illustrated, among all with specimen who reached house height - the last of them was seen in Tasmania in 1880. Its forefingers weren't poisened like those of its tinier sisters, but they frightened their victims with the clicking sound of their pincers. What they feared and why they apparently were dying out, I couldn't find, as much as I read. 

After the next Herbology lesson, Ron and I quickly went out, rushed to the lake, close to delta of the feeder stream, to pick fresh fluxweed. We rolled up our trousers and stepped into the icy cold water. As we picked a big bundle of it, Ron had an idea: we could just stay here for another minute, with our feet in the water, perhaps slowly walking to the other side of the stream and back, remove the leeches sticking at our calfs and therefore have fresh leeches instead of the nearly rotten ones at the student's cabins. "I mean... we have to _drink_ the potion afterwards..." he argued, "I'd rather like it as fresh as possible." So, we did, brought our crop to Myrtle's and ran to Transfiguration. 

Saturday morning December 4th, during the first Quidditch match of the season, Harry was seriously hurt by a Blutcher and not even Professor Lockhart who was immediately at the place could mend him. He had to spend a night in the hospital wing regrowing the bones of his right arm. During the night Harry spent in the hospital wing, another attack happened. As often in the evenings after homework, I was sitting in the Gryffindor common room playing wizarding chess with Ron. Colin Crevey, who felt guilty about trying to take photographs of Harry during the Quidditch match and of Harry lying injured in the mud, was sitting beside our table and didn't stop accusing himself of distracting Harry and having caused the accident. It was so difficult to concentrate on the chess game, and Ron is a very mature player. That's why I lost my patience and suggested him to visit Harry in the hospital wing, and Ron added with a big grin, he could bring him some fruits, if he liked. Having nothing but our chess game in our minds, and wanting to get rid of him as soon as possible, we forgot about the danger in the corridors. Perhaps, we didn't count the fact that Colin could really be going. But he went and - was petrified on his way along the corridors. 

The accident frightened the whole school! An uncomfortable, hectic atmosphere spread among the students. Nearly every day, Lee Jordan, Hanna Abbott or the diagon alley tradesman's son Ernie MacMillan tried to sell me an amulet, a talisman or another protective device. Lee Jordan was dealing with all sorts of african amulets arguing loudly with Lockharts Ouagadougou affair described in the autobiography. Hanna Abbot, whose father worked as an egyptologist at Durham University was passing in every break up and down the corridors, telling the students all she knew about ancient egyptian amulets and sold her own reconstructions, whereas Ernie was selling piles of a magically multiplicated collection of protecting charms. I couldn't prevent catching one or another ear of their speeches and praises, but I rejected buying. Why to spend my little money on superstition? 

At breakfast time in the morning after Harrys accident, I heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick about the attack on Colin. I pricked up my ears and decided: there was no time to lose. If Malfoy was behind the attack s, I could easily be next. So just after breakfast, instead of brushing our teeth and making our beds, Ron and I rushed down to the dungeons, sneaked the lacewings and the knotgrass out of the student's door cabins and climbed the stairs to Myrtle, where I conjured up a portable and waterproof fire - which at the time I managed to do without pronouncing the spell loudly, just thinking it hardly and concentrating on it. We set the cauldron onto the toilet and prepared the first ingredients: I squeezed the leeches into the cauldron and brought it to the boil. Ron chopped the first bag of lacewing flies - the only thing he was able to do properly in spite of his broken wand, and added it to the disgusting liquid. He then picked the leaves from the fluxweed and added them, constantly stiring, while I was breaking the knotgrass into inch long pieces, which were to be added one by one. 

As the ingredients started to swelter with soft bubbles, Harry stepped in, showed his reboned arm and told us, that during the night, he had been visited by a house elf who told him that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before - about fifty years ago. And that this year's opening had been planned during the summer holidays by the family the house elf was working for. On September 1st, he had unsuccessfully tried to prevent Harry of going back to school - but that's another story and has to do with Harrys and Rons sometimes suicidal hunger for dangerous situations. Another information from the night before at the hospital wing: Albus Dumbledore, bringing Colin Creevey, had confirmed that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before, unfortunately without naming a date, and stating, he was puzzled and left without an idea how it had been done. But at least, for Dumbledore the existence of the chamber was no legend as it was for Professor Binns. 

The softly sweltering potion could be left alone and I went back to the library. Finally, there was a vacant copy of _Hogwarts - a History_, but it didn't tell me much more than I already knew. The chamber had been opened exactly fifty years ago in 1943, but there was no mention of who had done it, nor of course how, nor where the chamber was. I changed the subject to another set of open questions: Harrys voices. If there was one, where was the connection? Where was a hint to a written answer? I had the idea of invisible monsters, human or non human, that meant, I had to go back to the monsters section, which didn't contain a separated invisibility part. Instead of that, I had to leaf through books over books on all sorts of "magical creatures", too much for being a help. I was lost. Perhaps I had to progress in direction of chameleon ghuls or monsters who can make themselves invisible, pretending to be plants or objects of daily use? The invisibility section on the other side of the room contained big and very old volumes on invisible monsters. Not less reading. After a long fight in the mountains of monster books and coming to no end, I decided not to let me drown from the overflowing information and made an end. 

On my way to the Dining Hall, Ernie once more caught me: "I know you. Do a lot of library work, don't you? And, oh yes, you are in Herbology with us, so you must be 2nd year like me. And from Gryffindor." I remembered him as well. Often in the library, often together with Hanna Abbot. When I lately heard his name for the first time, I thought that in a couple of years, he could be a quiz master for a TV show named "How to Earn a Million", as it sounded so similar. But then read on. It was the _Annual Report on Transmission of Magical Abilities_, I think, and it was too interesting to be distracted more than a second. Whatever, at the moment, he was praising his collection of protective charms. As I was alone with him, I leafed it through and found several quite interesting ones. None of them too difficult, but apparently rather effective. "Where did you find them?" - "In the library. Charms section", he replied proudly, "I collected them together with Terry Boot. And her Head Professor looked them through for mistakes." - "How much?" He named the price. It was about the amount for the parchment, so I bought one and put it in my robe. Not that I thought it would help me a lot in the few seconds I imagined the victim had in front of the invisible monster. Just as a bed time reading. Just because I thought it was a good collection and a reasonable price. 

Whenever I could, I cared not to be followed, slipped into Myrtle's bathroom and supported the fire, watched for the now frothing and bubbling potion, stired a bit, added a drop of cold water, cared accurately for the new ingredients to be added, stated that yes, the lacewing bones were dissolving slowly, as it was written in the book, which I had refused to believe before, had a little moanful chat with Myrtle when she was there, and all too soon, there was the moment to add the rare ingredients, which were still at Professor Snape's. My plan was to sneak into his private stores during the Potions lesson and to steal them, while Harry and Ron made a diversion causing up mayhem. The two of them were not enthusiastic about their dangerous role of course, but Ron had the genious idea to make use of one of Fred and George's filibuster fireworks. It worked.

On thursday afternoon December 16th, a week before Xmas, we started the action. As if Professor Snape intended to help us, we were to cook a swelling solution. On my sign, Harry lit the firework which landed exactly in one of the Slytherin cauldrons and exploded, splashing half the class with the potion. In the following minutes of confusion, when everyone ran forward to get antidote, I slithered into Professor Snape's office, found the drawer with the skin of a Boomslang quite fast, and the Bicorn Horn was just beside it, as _bi-_ is close to _bo-_, and the ingredients were stored in alphabetical order. During the next break, we cut and powdered the stubborn skin and added the two powders, portion by portion to the cauldron which steamed and hissed as described in the book. 

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### 4 The Duelling Revelation and Consequences

In the late afternoon of the same day, there was an ad of a duelling club at the board in the entrance hall. Start: the same evening at eight o'clock in the Great Hall. I wasn't convinced, that this was the right approach against the monster, but for Ron's peace, I agreed to join. Happy I was to discover that Professor Lockhart was the teacher, although I hoped it would be Professor Flitwich of whom people said he was a duelling champion when he was young. Less happy the three of us were to discover that Professor Snape was the assistant. The latter seperated Ron, Harry and me and cared for Harry and me to fight against Slytherin students: Draco Malfoy and Milicent Bulstrode, the massive and rude girl I knew from the potion class. It was horror. In spite of teaching us self defence or blocking spells (except of _expelliarmus_ which we knew for ages), they left us alone and a muddling confusion established as soon as we were let free to exercise. Milicent didn't bow at the beginning as we were taught, but pierced me with a killing look. On the count of three, I shouted _reductio_, and her wand flew away. She, even more furious, immediately disarmed me with a big foot cick at my wand holding wrist and hit me right in the stomach. Enraged, I hit back and sooner as anyone of us could think, we were wrestling as if defending our lifes. I didn't realize before, she hated me so much... By the time everyone stopped, she still had me in a headlock of which I wasn't able to free myself. Fortunately, Harry helped me out. 

For the second exercise, Professor Snape just used one single volunteer pair. Well, volunteer... he chose Harry and Draco and there it happened: as Professor Snape had whispered in his ear a moment before, Draco conjured up a big snake with vivid clover green eyes and a jet black shining body out of the tip of his wand. Parvati Patil yelled of sudden fear. Whoever was close to the dangerous looking animal, immediately stepped backwards. Only Harry stood motionless at the place, as if frozen to the ground. Then, as the snake attacked the 2nd year Hufflepuff student Justin Finch-Fletchley, Harry fixed it with his eyes and there came a hissing sound out of his mouth. It sounded as if he was egging the snake on, but it stopped and deterred. Justin fled the room and we were all petrified with scare. Even Professor Snape, who made the snake vanish fast as he could, gave Harry a long, first quite puzzled, then thoughtful and calculating look and sent us all back to our common rooms. 

Harry was able to speak _snake language_! Ron was offended that Harry had never told him. For he knew that this was a dangerous sign. Harry knew of his ability for at least two years, without realizing what it meant. Apparently the rest of the school did so. It meant, he was a parselmouth and had been silly enough to reveal this secret before everyone. Just in the time, everyone suspected him to be Slytherin's heir and therefore to be able open the Chamber of Secrets... what an ingenuous boy... _Hogwarts - a History _told that Salazar Slytherin himself had been famous for speaking snake language and therefore was called serpent tongue. That's why the symbol of his house is a serpent. The autor of the book assumed that only Slytherin's heirs were parselmouths and wrote in a footnote that it was common knowledge that speaking snake language was a sign of dark magicians - a bad sign indeed - and no example of the contrary was yet known. Impossible for Harry to prove that he was not an heir of Salazar Slytherin, who lived about a thousand years ago... Which student of Hogwarts was 100% sure, that his great-great-great-...-grandfather was _not_ one of the founders of Hogwarts? 

In the evening dormitory, getting undressed, I discovered something that paid me for the pains I suffered in Milicent's headlock: she left a hair on my robe... a hair, that meant, a part of her body, which I could use for the _Polyjuice Potion_! Well, well, Milicent, if you only knew how much you helped me with your rage, I thought, and my head was spinning from the long discussion with Harry and Ron. 

Next day, Friday December 17th: our double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs was off, because of a heavy blizzard. I was at no good point with my monsters research in the library, so I left it away, staying the whole afternoon in the Gryffindor common room and playing wizarding chess with Ron. Like Neville in the evening after the first Quidditch match, Harry was standing beside our table and justifying himself again and again not having done anything bad at the duelling club. He wanted Justin to know he hadn't been egging the snake on, but calling it off. He argued and argued. I felt uncomfortable. For heaven's sake, do people in Hogwarts think that they are able to change the past? Why was Justin so important for him, right in the moment _everyone_ in Hogwarts suspected him to be a dark wizard? I lost patience. As I told before, playing wizarding chess with Ron needs all my concentration, and I didn't want to be distracted. So I sent him away, searching Justin. 

On his way through the castle, Harry found Justin - lying petrified on the ground and Nearly Headless Nick at his side, floating petrified and smoky black several inches above. Ron and I heared about it half an hour afterwards. There was a sudden knock at the common room window. Dean Thomas was outside in the howling blizzard, riding on a school broomstick. I opened the window, allowing him to land in the common room. Breathlessly, he told us the story. During his most exciting Transfiguration class with Professor McGonagall, of which he still had black and white striped hair, they heard Peeves' voice: "_attack_", and something like "_no mortal nor ghost is safe_." Their whole class ran out. A few corridors away, Harry was standing beside the two new victims. "Imagine", he told us, "Harry _alone_ with them. Bit much of coincidences, don't you think? Why is he always there when it happens? He was one of you three to find the cat. He was in the hospital wing, when it happened to Colin on the staircase nearby. And only a fortnight later Justin and Nick... Why is he always at the site? You two must know more about him." The Weasley twins, who at that moment broke in through the portrait of the fat lady, coming from the same McGonagall class, took Harry's side. "Oh, come on, Dean, why should the Sorting Hat place Slytherin's heir in Gryffindor house?" asked Fred, and George added: "A _seriously bad_ wizard to teach us the other 50% of the opportunities of our future working life! Interesting perspectives!" Big discussion in the common room: what exactly was Harry's problem: to be in the wrong time at the wrong place - or not being able to control his emotions? Lee, who had dropped in with the twins, was glad to have entered in the amulet selling business early enough, and regretted running out of the voodoo ones. Neville who, attracted from the noise, came down the spiral staircase from the dormitories, gave a deep sigh: "Poor Nick! How can such a thing happen to a person who is already dead?" And Dean again: "Do you think, Harry does it himself or does the monster help doing it?" Neville argued: "He was awake all night. Do you think, he planned it?"

If Ginny had been here, the whole chaos had turned so deeply sorry for Harry, whom she obviously fancied but whom she didn't manage to defend as much as she wanted. But she was not around. She was far, as often alone, roaming the castle's grounds. 

In the following, last week before Xmas, the twins acted like body guards of the _seriously evil_ wizard Harry. They played an important part to Harry, you know. He himself didn't feel certain about his ancestors, and even some of the Gryffindors didn't believe him being innocent. In every corridor Harry went along, people were stepping aside hissing Earnie's charms or stretching all sorts of amulets towards him. There, we passed along the passage of students: George first, his wand outstretched like a sword, then Harry, closely followed by Fred, sometimes Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. At the end of the procession, trudged Ron and I, eyes cast down, as if trotting through a sudden rain, at least contented that they were providing us a free passage. Nobody trusted him. Nobody trusted us. Most of the students didn't even speak to us. And we were so ashamed.

The most annoying thing of the Advent days was perhaps Peeves' song echoeing through the corridors: "_Oh Potter, you rotter! What have you done? You're killing off students and think it's great fun!_". As there were no more attacks, the students felt confirmed that their approach towards Harry was the right way to stop Slytherin's heir. For us, it was an impossible situation and Harry (and of course Ron and me) never needed the twin's jokes more than then. Malfoy did obviously not feel comfortable about the situation. He was looking increasingly sour about the twin's reaction and avoided meeting us whenever he could. Ron supposed, it was because it was Malfoy who controlled Slytherin's Monster and he was jealous that Harry got all the credit for his dirty work.

In this atmosphere of confusion and uncertainty, term ended. Two weeks for us to be alone. Two weeks for the students to forget. The five Weasleys, Harry, me, but also Malfoy, Crabe, Goyle and the Ravenclaw Prefect Penelope Clearwater were the only students remaining in Hogwarts. This was all right for me, because the less people around, the less obstacles could disturb our dangerous operation. The _Polyjuice Potion_ was nearly ready. Soon, we would know, I secretly rejoiced. Soon, this dreadfully uncomfortable situation would be over ... 

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### 5 The Potion's Fruits

Xmas morning, bathroom work: I got up early, took Parvati's cauldron with me (come on - it was just for the day and she wasn't even at the castle at the time...), rushed quick as I could to Myrtle's bathroom, where I was looking about the _Polyjuice Potion_ and stated: _it was ready_. In the stool beside, I conjured up another waterproof fire and made a Sleeping Potion, the prescription of which I had from our very first Snape lesson, the _Draught of the Living Death_ as he had called it. It turned out not to be difficult to brew and it didn't take a lot of time: make an infusion of vermouth, bring it to boil three times, remove the vermouth leaves, add bit by bit powdered root of yellow daffodil (both of them available at the student's door cabins), bring to boil once again and slooowly cold down. Ready. What I needed it for? Oh - I didn't expect, the boys had already collected parts of the body of whom they were to turn in... And thinking of Betty Bossy's famous Lemon Cake, which is so soft and wet and marvellous - I was sure, Crabe and Goyle won't be able to resist plum chocolate cake in the squashy _Betty Bossy_ way... I dropped the warm _Sleeping Draught_ onto the two pieces of cake in a tupperware and put it in my robe. Finally, I washed Parvati's cauldron in order to bring it back to the Gryffindor tower, where I felt eager to wake up Ron and Harry and to bring their presents. My real Xmas present of course was the revelation that the Potion was ready. Tonight, we would know about Draco Malfoy's involvement. Wasn't that great? I was feeling excited as a bride. Tonight! 

After a probably delicious Xmas meal, which I wasn't really able to enjoy, the three of us rushed to dear Myrtle again, finally fulfilling the operation planned for such a long time. The last instructions on our way down: first, Crabe and Goyle had to be provided with the prepared cake. Once they were asleep, we had to pull out some of their hair and stow the two boys into the broom cupboard near the Entrance Hall to make sure they weren't able to burst in during the Malfoy interrogation. Then, we had to dress bigger shoes and robes, as the three of them are a lot bigger than us. It's best to wear their own shoes, I decided, and for robes - I sneaked three black school uniforms of about their size out of the laundry this morning. Third, I needed the three glasses I sneaked from the Xmas table, put the hairs in and - swallow - and there we go! For an hour exactly, we would be three Slytherins... 

The _Polyjuice Potion_ was glooping in the bathroom, and Myrtle was far away. It looked exactly as it was supposed to. I swallowed the anxious feeling and concentrated to pour the potion to equal parts into the glasses. As we added the hairs, each potion changed into another colour: Milicent's into a garish yellow, Crabe's into kakhi and Goyle's into a dark brown. We separated into different cubicles and Harry counted: "one... two... three..." 

Holding my nose, I gulped the creemy, sweet, warm liquid - "a bit too pleasantly tasting", I thought - and then, it began: a prickling sensation all over my body, over the back and belly, along the legs and arms. A sudden, but long lasting lightning in my eyes, which I closed. The strange sensation of ears becoming smaller and wandering onto the top of my head. A warm sensation as if from a caressing hand all over my face. My hands felt like shrinking and as I dropped my slowly opening eyes onto them, I remarked with a sudden fright that they weren't human hands anymore, but cat paws, and I was wearing a black fur all over my body! "Yeah", I heared outside, and "this is unbelievable" - "unbelievable" and "come on, Hermione, we need to go!" but I couldn't answer. What, if I wasn't able to speak human language anymore, but only to miaow? Oh, God, what happened to me! But my voice was working. It sounded a bit high pitched and long vowelled, but at least, there were clearly understandable human words: "I don't think I come. You two hurry up, you are wasting your time..." Of course, they didn't believe and Harry asked: "Are you OK?" - "Fine, I'm fine", I heard my strange, miaowing voice, "Go on!" It's true, they already wasted three or four of their precious minutes. "We'll meet you back there, all right?" Harry said, and they left the bathroom. 

I stepped out of my cubicle and faced the mirror. A black fur covered my face, my neck and arms. A handful of beautifully long, curved moustache hair were still sprouting out of my upper lip. A pair of pointed ears were poking through my hair. I realized: I had turned into a cat. At that moment, my eye fell at the prescription again and for the first time, I read the last sentence: "Caution - do not use for animal transformation - for further information see Chapter _Misdirections_". And I slowly but constantly felt a hairy tail growing out of my back. Disgusted, I rearranged my slip, allowing the tail to go on. Just a moment later, Myrtle surfaced the water of the toilet. "Are the boys gone?" She sqeezed a water dropping pimple off her nose. "Why are you still here?" And then, she recognized my tail, now falling onto the bathroom floor and started a big giggle, the first Myrtle giggle I ever heared: "A tail, a tail, a nice, long, hairy tail! Wait till everyone can see you!" Oh God! I sat on the closet, locked the cubicle, opened the book again, looked up the mentioned chapter and knew well I had exactly one hour to read before the boys were back. "Can you move it?" Myrtle interrupted me again and again, "are you able to move your beautiful, hairy tail?" Yes, I was, at least the tip of it, concentrating hard. "Could be useful, couldn't it? You just have to find out what you can use it for", she dropped a loud laugh. And I went back to the Belenus book, feeling lost by the rest of the word. Oh my God, what had happened to me. 

While I was reading the chapter for the second time, Ron's voice dropped in: "Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time - I know we still haven't found out who is doing the attackts, but I am going to write to dad to check under the Malfoy's drawing room." and then: "Hermione, come on, we have got loads to tell you!" But I really wasn't in the mood to show myself: "Go away!" I was begging. Of course, they thought, I was back to normal by the time. But Myrtle split on me: "Ooooh - wait till you see. It's awful!" and I had to emerge, to show my face and to admit: "It was a cat hair. Milicent Bulstrode must have a cat. And the potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformation." The boys were shocked. I raised my eyes to the mirror, saw my black furry face and a pair of bright yellow cat's eyes again. Myrtle was happy as a daisy and after their first astonishment, the boys suggested to take me up to the hospital wing. I wasn't in the mood. It meant I had to admit about the Potion. "No - you haven't", Ron said trying to cheer me up, "Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions". Perhaps, this was true, but nevertheless... "So the whole operation was useless?" I felt deeply deceived. Harry quickly said: "Nono, it wasn't. It's true, Malfoy doesn't know more than we do. At least, we know that for sure now. His father on the other hand seems to be informed exactly about the last time. He advised his son to keep his head down and to let the heir of Slytherin get on with the purging of the school." - "What happened last time?" I asked, losing the last bit of hope. Ron explained: "A muggle born had been killed by the monster. Malfoy hopes it will be you this time." I felt more and more vulnerable. "Hermione, come on, there is no place inside the castle you are more secure than the hospital wing." 

A convincing argument. Still I wanted to go alone. What, if he found the three of us together, just now, a few minutes after he revealed that there was something strange with Crabe and Goyle's timeline? Full of shame, I was walking up the stairs to the hospital wing, followed at distance by the boys. On my way, how could I avoid it, I met Professor McGonagall smiling happily after the feast. Her lips froze as she glanced at me. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed as she saw my tail, "how did this happen?" I had to turn to her, not being able to reveal my hairy face, murmuring something about "...got a piece of cake as a Xmas present ... don't know whom it was from ... but it was so delicious ... so delicious ... then, it happened." She escorted me to the hospital wing, wondering how I had been silly enough to eat a present from a unknown person and so on. I kept silent, happy she believed the story. 

Madam Pomfrey in fact didn't ask questions but immediately made plans. To remove my hair, she needed a depilatory ointment on which several spells were spoken to lenghten the effect, she told Professor McGonagall in a matter of fact tone. The bit she had at store, was perhaps enough for my face, but the real big lot for the body had to be made first. Then, she went on thinking loudly: "the making of the ointment is best to start by full moon, which is in three days. Am I able to organize the ingredients till then?" She hesitated. "The willow leafs won't be the problem. Nor the asphodel root or the aspen bark..." Then, she looked at Professor McGonagall again: "Are there still about five bundle of gillyweed? Three pints of unicorn milk? The slime of about fifteen to twenty horned slugs?" Professor McGonagall promised to go to the dungeons, asking Professor Snape and letting her know fast as she could. Madam Pomfrey went on: "After the preparation, the ointment has to rest till new moon, when the spells can be spoken. Can you help me with the ceremony...?" Professor McGonagall waved her hand: "_She_ can. She's a good student, she's learning quickly." They both looked at me. Of course, I wanted! Then, Madam Pomfrey came to the tail. "The removal of the tail is by length more difficult. Not only it will need an operation and, as the coccyx bone is touched, a long and painful healing time. I can operate tomorrow to save a bit of time. But will this be enough for the wound to close properly? There's the problem that the depilatory ointment isn't supposed to be used close to open wounds. Anyway, it isn't supposed to be used on bigger parts of the body at once, for danger of intoxication. For the ears, a charm will be enough, and for the eyes - I suppose, you want your natural colour again - I suggest daily eye drops. No evening reading during three weeks", she added to my side and continued, counting all the mentioned facts, "I think, I will be able to restore you in about a month." 

A month! A whole month! A whole month I would be away from classes! "Professor McGonagall?" I asked, "can someone come around once a day and bring my homework? I won't be able to keep up otherwise!" To my relief, she expressed her agreement, turned her back and left the hospital wing. 

The opertion was a quick procedure and even the healing time wasn't that painful. In the first three days, I was lying on my tummy, which provided a comfortable reading position. December 28th, Madam Pomfrey was busy in the laboratory, so I could finally finish the last Lockhart book. The day after, she timidly asked me, if I would allow her to tear my moustache - with local charming anaesthesia of course - as cat moustache hair were used in several potions, and she was going to run out of them. Mine were so beautifully long, proud and striped... I agreed, which helped me being in good terms with her. In the afternoon of December 29th, I had to turn on my still open back, putting a ring underneath. After the withdrawal of the mustache, she applied a generous layer of ointment onto my face, left it as long as I could stand, carefully washed it away, waited half an hour or so, calming my burning skin with a cooling charm, and started with the next layer until there were no hairs left in my face, not even around the eyes, which was the most tricky part. Then came the nutrition mask to strenghthen the skin again and finally, the evening eye drops. 

In my whole hospital wing month, I often chatted with Madam Pomfrey, who felt comfortable that there was at least one non-petrified person around. They frightened her, as she admitted. She also told me that the 3rd years had to choose some of their future subjects and recomended the study of Ancient Runes, as it was needed for the most Wizarding University Degrees. O.k., you could do Wizarding Medicine also with Ancient Egyptian or with Sanskrit, but as I was planning to study or at least later on to live in England, the Runes were the better choice. It was not the alphabet alone - called futhark - with its intrinsic magical powers, but also the rather long history, the literature and of course the charms, spells or oracles, which were extremely helpful in medicine. They all had provided a solid basis for her work here at the hospital wing, where every day could bring another surprising disease or awkward accident requiring a quick remedy. 

"Its intrinsic magic?" I came back to the Runes. Magical content in letters? She gave a loud laugh: "Of course, there is. Think of the word _hieroglyphs_." And she explaned: "_Runa_ means a _secret_ or _mystery_. The most learned people in ancient times were the priests, there was no difference between magic and science. The function of the priests was not only religion, but also medicine, psychology, and don't forget transmission of the cultural inheritage. They were the _living books_."

In this way, our conversation went on day by day. She was something like an alternative teacher to me. More. The elder sister I never had, perhaps. Never was there a point, where I had no question or she no story to tell, aside from the hours we wanted to be quiet. She was often singing and admitted that she liked the wide variety and the independence of her job as a boarding school nurse. Couldn't imagine to be at a muggle hospital - with all the blood stuff and giving people their daily drugs to guaranty them to be quiet and satisfied. And then, the medical rounds... they, she told, didn't differ to the ones in wizarding hospitals. Every morning, a group of _important looking men seriously crowding around the patient's beds_, unleashing eloquent speeches about the case's history, while nurces, small, unimportant and female, eager to serve them, squeezed into the corners of the room. No - definitly not her life stile. She was an independent worker, she said. A person who liked to see, to observe, to decide and then to act. As she did here. And there was also the brewing and inventing part of the job. How often had she been diving in the library or having long discussions with Severus or Flitwick about an appropriate potion or charm for a certain disease or accident! And sometimes - yes - she _found_ a new remedy, what made her really proud. Once, she got an award for an article in hmmr _hex' monthly medical review_ about a new way of manufacturing a bone growing medicine. Even the _Daily Prophet_ had been here to take pictures and to make an interview. 

At New Year's Eve, the ointment was still on the fire in the laboratory corner, spreading a fine, sweet and flavoured cloud of perfume, I got an unexpected visitor. Professor Lockhard had a little chat and brought a wonderful, golden get well card with his portrait and the most charming smile I had ever seen. The card was a special print from _Witch Weekly's_. At the back side, he wrote: "to Miss Granger, wishing you a speeding recovery - from your concerned teacher" and of course all his titles. I was moved. He is such a handsome man! His literary stile is so ...thrilling, his life is so varied and unusual. Being his best student, he explained, he missed me in classes... Can you imagine how I swallowed his words? I felt unsure after my misdirected body change, I needed every bit of attention I got, and he provided me with a great lot. Brief, I was so flattered and put the card under my pillow, where of course, Ron discovered it a couple of days afterwards. "Are you in love with this brainless gilt?" he asked. I didn't know. I wasn't able to answer. Was I? Or was Ron with me? Was Ron jealous? Or what was happening? Did anyone of us understand the other one's feelings? Was it important to understand? 

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### 6 A Peaceful Time

As soon as term started again, Harry and Ron came every evening up to the hospital wing, bringing homework and having a little chat. I had such a quiet and peaceful time up there. The conversations with Madam Pomfrey were so cheerful and our daily ritual of hair removal and cooling charms showed a slow, but constant progress. I was reading such a lot in the quiet atmosphere of the sunny room (guess what? Madam Pomfrey recomended _Runes - An Introduction_ by Ralph Elliott, which I eagerly swallowed, especially the British Isles part. If you find time, go for it!). For all that, there is not much to tell about January. Only... 

On one of my last evenings, Harry and Ron told me that they had found a diary at Myrtle's. The Year: 1943, the name: Tom Riddle and the content: - absolutely nothing. Not a single word. We wondered why someone still owned it and had thrown it away exactly in this year of all years, if there was nothing written in it. Was there a student with a grandfather by the name Riddle? Useless to know - we didn't have the name of every student, nor of course of all the grandfathers! But still: why throw away an empty diary? Why keep it for all these years? And why throw it into a toilet - which normally is a quite final place - especially if the toilet is haunted and only fools like us were visiting it. Who was attached to an empty diary with so many emotions? Unfortunately, Harry and Ron didn't bring it with them, so we were not able to more than arguing the subject. 

On my first evening back in the Gryffindor common room, I was eager to see the diary and Harry showed it to me. I was amazed how small and regular it looked. Nothing but white pages with pre printed dates of the days. Not even tracks of use. Just like bought and put beside. Nevertheless, I was a strange kind of _sure_ it was hiding a secret. Invisible ink? But neither the _aparecium_ charm nor my bright new red ereaser did work. Nothing. Nor did Riddle's medal in the trophy room tell much more. He got an _Award for Special Services to the School_ (which ones exactly?). He had been a Head Boy and got a _Medal for Magical Merit_ (what for?). No written word about his achievement... Of course, I went asking the library. In _Prefects Who Gained Power_, I found not more than a short note on him, saying that he was half muggle born by his father's side, that both his parents had died in his early years and he had rosen up in a London muggle orphanage, that he had been a quite intelligent, learning well and promising student, but then - had disappared ... and never again his name had turned up. Strange. Harry had the vague feeling he knew him many years before Hogwarts, he told me one evening in the common room, while Ron was with Ginny who came back to Gryffindor tower utterly disturbed that evening. Harry had no idea of how and when he had met Tom. For some reasons, he didn't want to tell me more. He didn't have friends in his muggle childhood. Just the name arose a sort of familiarity he couldn't explain. Again. It's sometimes so difficult to understand Harry. 

On Valentine's Day, Ginny composed a lovely little love song for Harry and sent it to him by one of the love-messengers - a special idea of Gilderoy Lockhard, who organized a bundle of Valentine effects as a moral booster for the agitated school. In the confusion of her song, Harry's school bag broke, pouring the contents all over the floor. Malfoy sneaked Riddle's diary, but Harry _expelliared_ it back. In the confusion - Harry told us the day after - his ink bottle had crashed and drenched his books - all of them except of the diary, who was completely clean. It seemed to suck in every drop of ink. This gave Harry an idea: as soon as he could in the evening, he retreated to his four-poster bed, curtains closed, to be alone with the diary. Putting ink drops on it and waiting until the diary had swollowed them. Then starting to write into it. First his name, then simple questions. The diary had continued to suck the ink, but after a while ... Tom Riddle had written back! Out of the diary! They had been able to communicate this way, over the gap of fifty years, wasn't that weird? Tom had told him that a culprit had been found in his time and had been expelled. Tom gave no name, no information of his later career... but then, he had taken him into his memory on one evening in June 1943. Imagine - Harry stepped into another time, meeting the then Headmaster Mister Dippit. And walking with Tom through the empty corridors. They had been waiting for a long time in an edge, until a huge boy entered the scene, talking to a hairy black monster in a strong dialect all too familiar to Harry. Hagrid the school boy. He was talking to the monster and was setting it free in the coridors. Hagrid, the culprit and his early love for monsters. Was it him to unleash the horror of Slytherin? Was it him then and was it him how? "How many monsters do you think, Hogwarts contains?" came the rhetorical question from Ron. It didn't sound too much convincing to me, but it was logical. 

Hagrid. Should we go straight away to his cabin and ask him if he was doing something odd at the time? I mean: the monster had actually killed a person and was up to do so at the moment!!! Nevertheless, we dropped the plan. The boys didn't want. Didn't know what to say. How to argue with Hagrid? How even to start a conversation? We couldn't bring ourselves to go to him. 

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### 7 The last Piece of the Jigsaw

For Harry, the whole weeks until April was a hectic time. Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch. A lot of broomstick and fresh air. Oliver Wood had ordered extra training for the Spring Quidditch Match against the Hufflepuffs. Ron was sometimes watching the training sessions, sometimes staying in the common room, playing or argueing with me for hours. It's such a pitty he can't be in the Quidditch team as well. He likes this sport indeed. Did so ever since Bill took him to the first match. Harry had been chosen to the team the first time ever he had been riding a broomstick. His riding and playing was amazingly good - no doubt - but was this fair? For Ron, who was taught riding on a broomstick together with walking, for Ron, who knew all the rules of this complicated game and a lot about all sorts of teams from all over the world by heart, there had been no place in the team. Three Weasleys out of seven players... bit much. So he was sitting on the playground bench with mixed feelings as always: fascinated by the game, suffering for being exluded, not being able to conquer his fascination for the sport and at the same time hoping for Harry and the Gryffindor team to win. I was at his side - and had mixed feelings as well. Ron. Should I have pitty with him, or comfort him that perhaps his time would come in later years? For, when would this later years come? When the twins left Hogwarts? Three long years till then! 

One evening, as Harry came back from the training, Neville stopped him in the Gryffindor common room and told him, that his four-poster bed was in a complete mess and all his belongings were lying around. Harry ran upstairs, followed by Ron, and came down, white as a blanket: "Hermione - Riddle's diary is missing..." I raised my head from _Ancient Runes Made Easy_. "Who could have taken it?" I asked myself, the head full of runic writing and celtic grammar, and stated the only words I could imagine: "only a Gryffindor." Only one of us. Who? 

Next morning, Sunday April 18th - never in my life I will forget the date - it was a sunny early spring Sunday, I woke up early because of the birds singing and chirping outside the castle. I went down into the common room and read, squatted in the window ledge, in the Runes book for about an hour, until Ron and Harry came down and we left for breakfast. The Great Hall was full of students. Wood alluded an extra training session for Harry, who during the whole breakfast time stared up and down the Gryffindor table in order to find the guilty new owner of the magical diary, but no one was behaving in an odd manner. Was the thief a good actor or wasn't he at breakfast? Did he already know how to use the diary? I suggested to report the robbery, but Harry was against - he didn't want to churn up the story about Hagrid's chucking out of the school... 

We left the Great Hall. Suddenly, in the marble staircase, Harry yelled: "The voice. I just heard it again, didn't you?" Ron and I were startled. Harry looked serious. The voice must have been real. - Real. - All of all sudden, I got it! Oh - I thought, in all over the castle, people could hear the final clicking in my head - _Harry, the parselmouth_ was hearing an _apparently disembodied_ voice _nobody else could hear_, a voice which seemed to _move inside the walls_. What, if this voice spoke parsel as well? What, if the monster had a snakelike existence and therefore had a long and thin body and in fact was able to move inside the walls, inside the pipes? That meant, I could forget about the invisible monster idea where I was stuck in the library, as there were too many ways to go ahead ... and look for a _snake shaped_ monster which was able to petrify people and which by the way spiders fear? I murmured an excuse and I ran to the library where I put the some of the last pieces of the jigsaw together. 

The library. Back to the monsters, where in this new situation just three books were left. I took them from the shelf and sat at a free place just beside the Ravenclaw Prefect Penelope. The first book, _Fantastic Amphibians_ by Newt Scamander, was a well illustrated list of magical animals living and breathing in water as well as on land. They were ordered by their size and shape. Some of them had a snake like body. I let the book open at one of the snake pages and consulted my second book: _Afraid of Snakes?_ by Vindictus Viridian, who told in his chatty tone about snakes and magical animals which were able to assume snake shape. Whenever I thought this might be the monster of the Chamber of Secrets, I looked it up in Scamander's book. Most of the time, I was disappointed. But then, I found the first hints to the Basilisk and its petrifying and sometimes murderous stare. Time for the third, very small, yellowish and apparently well used book: Amaethon Walch wrote in the archaizing language of the first decade of the 20th century about _Most Frightening Beasts_. Many scolars had made their notes into it, and some pages were teared or missing. His definitions of the beasts and their behaviour against humans were short and precise. But I had not much time to read. Just a second after I had found the Basilisk page, Penelope, who had been sitting and sighing over a book called _Abortion or Postponement? - a Real Decision of a Witch Feeling too Young_, blowing her nose and sobbing for about an hour, suddenly got up and was up to leave the library. "Penelope watch it", I tore the page out of the book and rushed in her direction to hold her back. I saw her eyes red from crying, but ignored them. "Do you happen to have a pocket mirror?" It was crucial for me, for her, for every student moving inside the castle. We had to make use of it, glancing around the edges before entering a new corridor. She gave me a curious look, but I showed her the Walch page I held in my hand, the shortest summary of all the facts about the monster: _

> "of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a cock's egg, hatched beneath the toad or a serpent. Its methods of killing are most wondrous: for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye, shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy. And the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it." 

_

She read the text and obviously was not too much convinced. She hesitated and it was as if I could read her thoughts. Should a _Prefect_ really be listening to a _little 2nd year student_? I just stared at her. Motionless. Not defending myself. What could I do? But then, after a while, she did the best she could at the moment. Was there anything to lose for her? Without further questions, she did as I told her. This was perhaps the best thing in my whole school year. Two corridors further on, it happened all of a sudden: a pair of big yellow eyes appared in the mirror. As if in shock, we were falling down at once and the mirror slipped out of Penelope's hand. 

We must have given a common scream. Seconds later behind our backs, I heared Madam Pince rushing out of the library. Her scream was of a far higher pitch than our. She must have turned back to the library, where Professor Flitwick was studying. Together, they made us float in mid air and brought us to the hospital wing. "The poor cat girl again", exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, as she glanced at me, and without further ado pushed our floating bodies into the washing room. 

Less than half an hour later, Percy Weasley dropped in and rushed in spite of Madam Pomfrey's protests straight to Penelope's bed, took - as I assume - her cold and petrified hand and swore solemnly to love her forever, swore that he would never leave her "in this dreadful time" and sobbed like a boy.

And - click - it dawned on me: Penelope in love! This was the very last piece of jigsaw I needed. When the Basilisk said "I can smell blood" - did it mean "blood of _any_ person or animal" or "bad blood"? Did it _choose_ its victims? Did it _follow_ me to the library? The squib's cat, the moodbloods Colin, Justin and me, Penelope, who chose a not-only-platonic love instead of concentrating as a good Prefect on education alone, the not-properly-decapitated ghost, who was not even apropriate to join the Headless Hunt and was on good terms with the students... from Salazar Slytherin's point of view, each of us unworty to stay at _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_, the best ever known wizarding school in Great Britain, which had to keep its name! 

Now, that was it - I told the whole story - to whom? when will I be able to write all this down? - and it still takes a lot of time until the mandrakes are mature and the _Restorative Draught_ can be made. What am I going to do till then? Just waiting is unpossible. I must do something. I must think a clear line. Shall I start over again? Perhaps, I am finding new details the second time... 

The voice. This strange voice Harry kept on hearing all around the castle... 

* * *

Suddenly, Harrys voice in the hospital wing: "McGonagall gave us the permission!" Madam Pomfrey, upset: "It's just pointless to talk to a petrified person." Ron's eyes looking sadly into my unmovable ones. "Wonder if she did see the attacker though? Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know." But Harry discovers the scrunched paper in my fist. "Try and get it out!" Ron whispers. They tug and twist and finally get it. They are reading in a whispering tone to each other. 

Harry gasps: "Ron, this is _it_. This is the answer. The monster in the chamber is a Basilisk - a giant serpent. That's why I've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because I understand parseltounge. ... The Basilisk kills people by looking at them, but no one died. Because no one looked it straight in the eyes." and he reconstructs the cases one by one, just as I did in the library: Colin saw them through his camera. Justin: through Nearly Headless Nick. Nick couldn't die anymore. Penelope and I saw them in the mirror and Mrs Norris ... "she saw it in the reflection of the water flooding the corridor floor." Harry, concluding at the end: "Hermione had just realized, the monster was a Basilisk. I bet you anything, she warned the first person she met to look around corners with the mirror first. And that girl pulled out her morror and..." Ron, the quick chess player, needs a bit more time and consults the paper again: "... that's why the roosters were killed... Spiders... it all fits." __

What was that about the rooster? Did I miss something? Did they learn something about roosters? Harry mentioned Hagrid, bringing dead roosters to Dumbledore's office. - Hold on a second. Just an idea. Dead roosters? What about the rooster feathers in the 1st year girl's dormitory... "But how's the Basilisk been getting around the place? A giant snake? Someone would have seen." Ron asks. Harry just murmurs "Look Hermione's note on the paper, Ron: Pipes! Pipes ... Ron, it's been using the plumbing. I've been hearing that voice moving inside the walls." Pause. "The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets ... what, if it's a bathroom? What, if it's in..." Ron asks, and Harry: "..._Moaning Myrtle's bathroom_!" 

Silence. Now, it's my turn to shrug, and there is a loud echo throughout my body. - If this is the case... only now I realize in what danger I had exposed myself all the time I worked at the brewing of the _Polyjuice Potion_ exactly at the place where the monster came from. And I had felt so perfectly secure and self confident at the time. Being able to _do something_. Being able to _act_... 

But Harry's thoughts go into another direction: "This means, I can't be the only parselmouth at school. The heir of Slytherin is one too. That's how he's been controlling the Basilisk." Ron panicks. "What are we gona do? Should we go straight to McGonagall?" and Harry replies "let's go to the staff room. She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break." And they run away. 

Only a few minutes after, McGonagall's voice echoing magically amplified through the corridors: "all students to return to their house dormitories _at once_. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please." 

"_Ginny_", out of nowhere, there is a strong back echo reverberating inside my petrified body, without knowing why, without knowing where it comes from, "Ginny, I so much hope, nothing happened to you..." 

THE END 

* * *

[Go to top][8]

*** Thanx for reading. It was fun looking at the book from this side... Did you realize, that without Ginny and Hermione, there wouldn't be a second book? Amazing. Someone should write Ginny's part.  
Of course, I don't own a thing but the idea(s). The rest is JKR's. (hope she does this with mine some day) 

   [1]: #1Start
   [2]: #2Library
   [3]: #3Potion
   [4]: #4Duelling
   [5]: #5Fruits
   [6]: #6Peace
   [7]: #7Jigsaw
   [8]: #Top



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